Studio8 - Uniting the Arts

3:45 a.m. - the distant owl I hear most nights/mornings about this time is now probably 30 feet from my open bedroom window - an audio opportunity not to be missed. I slide my feet out from the covers so as not to disturb the dog, grope my way to my desk in the next room, and grab the Tascam. I turn it on and set it to Record while shuffling back to the bedroom, where I set the device down on the windowsill.

Silence.

I diligently record at least 3 minutes of dead silence, punctuated only by my own muttered cursing.

Four hours later, the dog & I head out for our first trek of the day, and I remember to drop the recorder into its carrying case, because I want to capture the thrush I hear calling each morning from the woods lining the road to the lake. By the time we reach the bird's territory, I've got the recorder in my hand and have turned it on.

Silence. I imagine treesful of birds suppressing giggles while they point at me shushing one another...

What the fuck - how do they know??

An interesting night...

4:45 pm - Oppressive humidity, sporadic rain, and conflicting winds provide all the ingredients for a tornado watch. I unplug the computer and turn on the radio while tidying the kitchen preparatory for fixing meals for dog and myself.

5:00 pm - The National Weather Service interrupts All Things Considered to issue a tornado warning - for north central Massachusetts and southwestern New Hampshire. They name surrounding towns and my own.

5:25 pm - National Weather Service strongly advises those in the named towns to take immediate shelter.

I check the time. The warning expires in 20 minutes, so I look outside. The sky to the south is dark and ominous, with a near-constant rumble of thunder. But here the air is still, and to the west there are even a few patches of blue sky. Still, I decide it might be wise to dress, put on shoes, and clear out the corner room in the basement in case Dog & I need to retreat there. I turn the radio down low and crack open a few windows so I can hear whatever might be happening outside, and uneasily resume my kitchen duties.

5:45 pm - The expiration time comes and goes without incident, but I don't privately sound the all-clear for a half-hour beyond that, after which I gradually relax enough to begin my own dinner preparations.

Dinner - YouTube, a DVD ("Mission: Impossible", season 1, episode 3 - my favorite, "Operation Rogash"), bed.

2:00 am, approx. - I need to pee, and the dog is due as well, so I reluctantly come awake enough to heave out of bed and slip into my mocassins. We trudge out into the dark, relieve ourselves, and trudge back in. Within minutes, I'm asleep again.

2:30 am - sleeping lightly by an open window, the soft patter of rain on the hostas borne in on a cool, damp breeze. Suddenly something brushes me, a quick, fleeting touch - and a quiet fluttering. I know what it is, and confirm that knowledge by switching on the light.

A little brown bat frantically orbits the room looking for a way out.

With an exasperated sigh, I rise, step out to fetch a bath towel, and return to the bedroom which he has since departed. I sit at the edge of my bed waiting for him to return. When he does, I shut the bedroom door. The bedroom has now become our arena.

It takes a couple of tries, but when he roosts, I am eventually able to grab him, using the towel as a mitt. I carry him to the main entry and gently flap the towel to send him on his way. I return to bed, lay down, and smile. I have been blessed. No tornadoes touched down here, and I was able to rescue a beautiful, fragile, and threatened wild creature. This uncertain night has ended well.

Ever had mushroom coffee? I swear, it will ail what cures ya !

Throwing my voice -

Spaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaalat !

This summer has been about as unpleasant as any in recent memory. For weeks, now, the sun has been nothing but a bright spot in an otherwise featureless gray overcast that effectively traps the humidity below it. It rains every day - maybe only for 15 or 20 minutes, but enough to ensure that nothing ever dries out, ever. Not the towels, the washcloths, the perspiration-soaked t-shirts - nothing. The salt in the shaker is a solid mass. I can't open my front door - it's swollen shut with moisture. Yesterday I discovered mold growing on my bathroom cabinets. In one month we've gone from drought conditions to near-daily flood watches.

National Weather Service had been predicting some relief later tonight. Now they're saying maybe tomorrow night.

"Maybe" is just another way of saying "maybe not".

Nothing anyone can do about it but complain, I guess. Just doing my part.

"Bout the same over here - have learned that to ride my bike I have to begin before dawn and be back to camp before 8 a.m. or the humidity & heat will do you in - not bad today though overcast here but barely topping 70 - I'm headed out now with a smile on my face and I'll still be smiling even if I get rained on

I'm roaming the corridors of my old workplace because she said she needs some old, used, discarded coffee filters. So I'm discretely checking the trash barrels - or trying to, despite the fact that, even at this hour, there are an unexpected number of people about.

I step outside through the main entrance. The darkness is held at bay by powerful work lights allowing the construction to continue. Most of the earth moving is taking place within a large scaffolding partway down the hill, but a mechanical mole must be burrowing underneath, because a bulge of earth is moving rapidly towards me. I hastily retreat to the side of the building, shadowed in darkness from the floodlights, but not hastily enough, for I can feel the ground rise up under me as the tunneler passes below.

Then it stops and withdraws, and the ground begins to subside beneath me. In alarm I scramble out of the deepening hole, but the floor has dropped away and the walls are beginning to crumble, and my struggles to escape are only accelerating their collapse....

...and here I awaken with a start, opening my eyes to the familiar confines of my bedroom - and the most unfamiliar sight of a figure, a pale ghostly figure of a man dropping from the ceiling to concealment at the foot of my bed. And then it rises to a standing position. I cry out in fright - and as if in reply comes the voice of a man just outside the window in my driveway - he is addressing me directly, and while I can clearly hear the articulated words, I can't quite make them out. I lie still, paralyzed with terror, and try to make sense of what he's saying....

...until I awaken again, to the same room, but altered slightly - the windows are no longer black empty sockets, but soft gray panes admitting pale moonlight. The voice is gone, replaced by the chirring of myriad night things inhabiting the warm, humid forest outside. The clock radio shows 3:20 am. From the next room, the dog growls and barks a tentative bark - my cry, apparently, has spooked him. With the chill of the nightmare still upon me, I rise and call to him, to assure him that all is well, even though I am not yet fully convinced that is the case.........

Went to bed early. Gas bubble woke me up. Big yawn. book of poems (closed) - half cup coffee. The crickets are a wall of seamless sound out there in the dark. Going to build a bike today. I have enough scavenged parts. Not exactly magic carpet ride but enough to roll roll roll. Call me Dr. Frankenbike.

This thread is a treasure trove.

DOREEN! I ain't been around in a while. Wish I had some tortilla strips to munch but I ain't got any.

ya ever just want to do something that was bold italicized and underlined?

Good Gawd! At least my dog loves me!

We also do not italicize religious books (for example, the Bible, Koran, the Torah)

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"strangers had forced him to live in his head"—JP

I have been spending to much time at The Church of The Good HTML

Sometimes I try to imagine Kerouac writing spontaneous hypertext language

feel like the reverend's one horse shay these days

even so, I am going down rockin

I write such trash I worry readers will just think it is another typo.
sometimes I underline to say no that is not a mispelling that is the way I intended to spell the word
sometimes I underline in blue text to indicate a broken hyperlink.

for some reason I am no longer able to incorporate a hyperlink on Studio Eight, anymore. The tag code don't seem to work no moe
http://grammar.yourdictionary.com/punct ... italicize

Lottsa rain
its a jungle out there amigo
and I am digging every drop
ink drops on my windshield
tear drops on my steering wheel
I been so loney I been thinking about buying Alexa or Google Home just to hear a friendly voice.
as I wander the loney streets of studio eight, back to my crib at belly acres estates, here in the heart of texas, waiting for the rain to stop so I can ride my electric bike.

read a saw poem today, the prettiest poem I have ever read, left me feeling good.
I got Dino's book of poetry, not to wish him any bad luck but I wish I had a book of SAWS

the friendly skies